I See You
by strbck23
Summary: "Yet the compensatory respect she desired only deepened the yearnings of her heart-to let it open. To let someone in." Post-Milagro and The Unnatural.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: This chapter is PG-13. Will be NC-17 later.

Spoilers: This will be a post-Milagro and post-The Unnatural story.

Author's Notes: Please keep in mind, there WILL be more after this. It was actually all going to be one story, but it started getting pretty long and I decided why not break it down into chapters. I just can't do short stories, LOL...There will be 1 or 2 chapters after that and they are the main part of my story, the original idea. This chapter is all set up for that.

Feedback? "I'm hungry." *like Mrs. Peacock*

* * *

"Agent Scully is already in love."

I feel myself go cold, almost like the reaction I feel when I am startled badly. Then I feel a flush go through me starting at the top of my head and spreading through my body, leaving me in a cold sweat, especially my hands and feet. I stare at Padgett walking away, not daring to look at Mulder. Frozen. Stricken.

Finally Mulder walks past me, mumbling, "we gotta follow him." He doesn't touch me, doesn't look at me, doesn't usher me ahead of him as usual. He just walks past me, turning himself so he doesn't touch me at all.

I watch him go for a moment. Anyone else wouldn't notice a thing but I see it. He is tense, his arms not moving with his legs, his shoulders just the slightest bit less slouched than usual. He turns a corner in the hallway and I run to catch up. I walk two paces behind him the rest of the way to the car after I do catch up.

We make it to the car and wait out front of the jail, waiting for Padgett to get released and hail a cab. When he does, we follow him. Mulder doesn't say a word the whole time, driving with two hands on the wheel rather than his usual ease on the road. Padgett is going to his, to Mulder's apartment building. After Padgett gets out of the cab, we watch him go inside.

Mulder clears his throat and speaks for the first time since we released Padgett. "Scully, I need you to go pick up some surveillance equipment while I sit on him. I'll call in a warrant and it should be ready when you get there." His hands are still on the wheel, speaking in his flattest monotone.

"Yeah, okay, I'll be back." I step out onto the curb, closing the door, thanking God for the chance to get away from him. I step off of the curb in front of Mulder's car, looking both ways, preparing to cross the street. Mulder jumps out of the car though and meets me in front of the hood before I can step out into the street.

"Was he right, Scully?"

I lose all of the air in my lungs, feeling that damn chill again. "Mulder, I told you, you know me better than that. We didn't…do anything." I know good and well that's not what he's asking me. But I'm giving him the chance and begging him to change the subject all at once. Now there's a long line of cars coming, but I'm looking for the chance to cross the street, to get away from him. He's just staring at me and I refuse to meet his gaze.

I see him open his mouth out of the corner of my eye, getting ready to say something. I dart out across the street, towards my car on the other side, finally getting my chance to cross. I drive off and don't look back.

xxxxx

Hours later, I'm crying into the crook of my partner's neck with wild abandon. When I can finally form words I ask, "Where were you?"

I feel him deflate even more in my arms and he moves one hand to the floor, only so he can move his knees down and hold me that much closer. "I'm sorry…"

I wrap my arms around him tighter, gasping in a breath. It catches in my throat a few times, the way that happens only while sobbing. I move my chin to rest on his shoulder, and look up, the ceiling blurry through the moisture in my eyes. I speak in a throaty whisper. "I was so afraid! I could feel him in there! His hand, inside me! God, it hurts!"

I feel him turn his head and he speaks into my neck, "It's over, I'm here now." I feel him kiss me through thick blood on the side of my neck. Our default, customary, in-case-of-emergency-break-glass kind of affection.

"It hurts!" I involuntarily let out a few more weakened sobs. "I can still feel him. His hand was so cold!" I immediately begin shivering. "I'm cold…I'm going in to shock, Mulder."

"Are you still losing blood?" He pulls away from me and sits back on his calves, trying to tell if I am still losing blood through my shirt.

"I don't know…" I begin shaking, unable to tell if I have open wounds. Unsure when my attacker was interrupted, after I passed out and what condition that would leave me in.

Mulder grabs his phone, calling 911, looking in my eyes as he spouts out his badge number. I watch his lips move, see my blood on them. His eyes lock with mine while he unbuttons my shirt, bottom to top. It's ruined, I don't know why he bothers unbuttoning it. He rests his hand on the side of my neck, eyes still locked with mine as he requests the police and paramedics. After he sets his phone down somewhere above my head, he says, "I need to check, Scully."

I nod. He slowly pushes the left side of my shirt aside. He breaks our eye contact, looking down at my chest. I see the look of relief in his face. "I'm ok?" I blink and feel another tear fall towards my temple.

"You're ok." I close my eyes in relief. I feel his hand come to rest on my ribcage. Right under my left breast, his thumb coming to rest tentatively on that tiny bit of fabric between the cups of my bra. When I open my eyes again, he meets my gaze. Then he closes his eyes and turns his face into his shoulder, brushing his lips against his the sleeve of his shirt. His eyebrows furrow together before he looks at me again, raw emotion. He is devastated, yet relieved. "Your heart is pounding, Scully." He closes his eyes and swallows deeply. "Your heart is beating…" He trails off, his eyes closing once more, only relief now.

"I'm cold, Mulder."

He stands quickly, leaning over me, snatching a blanket from the couch. He sits back down next to me, sits me up, drapes the blanket over my shoulders. He reaches down and deftly buttons my shirt up. He even straightens it up a little. I realize now he saved the buttons, knowing I'll appreciate every last modicum of neatness and control amid this chaos when the cavalry arrives. Then he scoops me up and sets me sideways across his lap, wrapping his long arms around me to keep me warm. He tucks my head into his chest, rests his mouth on my hair, cups his hand around my neck, his thumb stroking my cheekbone by my ear. I bundle within the blanket in the cocoon he's made for me, trembling. The police arrive soon after, him reluctantly letting me go when I move to scoot off of him when we hear the stairway door swing open and their footsteps moving quickly down the hall towards us.

Hours later, we are sitting in his car in front of my building. He parked on the curb a few minutes ago and we sit in silence. Finally he turns to look at me at the same time I turn to look at him. I was about to tell him to go, that I would be fine. But the look in his eyes stops me. 'Don't shut me out, not now.' I breathe deeply and nod, my tongue touching the inside of my cheek in my reluctance. "Come on in." I get out and close the door, walking up the walkway to the front door of my building without waiting on him. I close my jacket as tightly as I can, praying that I don't run into a neighbor covered in dry blood.

Another hour later, I am waiting for him to finish showering. I have showered, and am waiting on my couch in my pajamas and robe. He comes out, in a pair of flannel-print cotton pajama pants and a light gray t-shirt, from the overnight bag he keeps in his trunk. We have both washed ourselves of my blood and I begin to relax. I curl up and let him have his side of the couch.

The next thing I know, it is morning. I have a blanket draped over me. I stare at the obnoxious infomercial on TV, slowly feeling the pain in my ribs and chest wake as I do. I feel his presence, he is still with me. I sit up as gently as I can, huffing at the shooting pains. He wakes as quickly as a watchdog, turning to look at me. He slept there all night, with his ankles and arms crossed, leaning back on that one end of the couch. He looks at me and takes my wrist into one hand, still half asleep by the looks of it. I look at him, puzzled. He holds two fingers over the pulse point there, closing his eyes again when he feels my heart is beating still. I humor him for a few moments before I brush his hand off of my wrist with my other hand, wondering if he's fallen asleep again. But his eyes open, more alert this time.

"I'm glad you're ok. I'm so glad he didn't take you from me. This was too close, this time Scully. I CAN'T lose you."

I soften at his words, always most vulnerable to such things when I first wake. I quickly push away the smile forming on my lips, though.

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Author's Notes: Milagro is without a doubt, hands down, my favorite episode. It plays a big part in the next chapter(s) also. Large amount of next part written, I'll get it up ASAP.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: This chapter is PG-13ish. Will be NC-17 later.

Spoilers: Post-Milagro/The Unnatural.

Author's Notes: Mulder, Scully and baseball. My great loves, come together. Season 10, I'mma let you finish, but Season 6 is one of the best seasons of ALL TIME.

Feedback? "I'm hungry." *like Mrs. Peacock*

* * *

"Shut up, Mulder. I'm playing baseball."

We whack the ball together a while before he asks, into my ear, "Want to try a few on your own?" We whack another one.

"Sure…mmm," I mumble, disappointed where that one went.

He let's go of the bat, running his right hand up the length of my arm and standing straight, squeezing my upper arm. "Hold up, Poor Boy!" He runs his hand over my shoulders as he leaves home plate towards the mound, his long strides closing the distance quickly, taking his wallet out of his back pocket as he goes.

After Mulder hands him some money and tells him to run along home, the boy runs off smiling. "Thanks, Mister!"

"Put that money in your pocket!" The kids stops in his tracks, carefully folding the money and putting it deep in his pocket. Mulder shakes his head, smiling a little, watching the boy run out of the field.

"All right, Scully, are you ready?" He picks up a glove, tucks it under his arm and moves the machine aside. He looks excited.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I say, trying not to smile too much at his eagerness. He lines up and I raise the bat, looking down at my toes. "Right here?"

He shakes his head and jogs toward me, standing up behind me again. He places a hand on my shoulder, and I look at him over my other one. "Face forward," he says, and holds me still with that hand on my shoulder. I feel his tennis shoe on the inside of my boot, pushing my left foot out and spreading my legs wider. I make a face, not altogether loving this. I feel my legs are spread too wide. I try to bring my foot back in a little and he stops it with his. "No, see?" He moves in behind me and takes the bat again, slowly guiding me to turn into a swing. His voice rumbles into my ear, that voice he uses only when we are so close together. It's like his voice lowers in octaves the more quietly he talks. I liken it to thunder reverberating through the clouds during a quiet, distant thunderstorm in the night. "This way, you have room to turn." He pulls the bat back and guides us into another slow swing, feeling his breath through my hair, on my ear. I'm distracted as he guides me through this swing, licking my lips. "Ah, Scully, don't make me remind you again. Hips before hands…" his hand is over my hip bone again. "Ok? Now, one more thing. As you turn, use this foot to turn yourself into the swing." He lightly kicks the inside of my right foot.

"Ok," my voice doesn't come out clearly. I clear my throat. "Yeah."

"All right, sport, let's see what you got." He pats my shoulder as he walks off. I am eternally grateful he didn't pat my ass. I watch him walk away from me again, watching the lean muscles in his back and shoulders under that jersey. He bends to pick up that glove where he dropped it by the mound and I turn away from home, dropping the bat, pulling my jacket off. I so just checked out his ass and I need a moment to will the flush from my cheeks. I walk to one of the dugouts and lay my new suede jacket over one of the benches. When I return, he's putting a sunflower seed between his teeth, waiting patiently. I pick up the bat and stand like he showed me.

He stands there with the ball in his glove. He spits out the shell of that seed and looks to the bases, I assume out of habit. He nods and slowly lifts his left leg into himself, places it back down after taking a step forward, then pitches the ball at me. Of course I've seen someone pitch a baseball before but I'm caught off guard by the sight of Mulder's lean arms and legs moving in ways I've never seen them move. I manage to remember to swing but I am a mile off, completely distracted. "Scully! You're not even trying! It was right down the middle."

"You're just…you were slower than the machine!" I clear my throat, ready to concentrate a little more I think.

He gives me a skeptical look and I can see the smirk in his lips all the way from here. "Keep your eye on the ball, Scully." He picks up another ball and pitches again. I swing awkwardly, but for the most part like he showed me. It rolls on the ground, right up to his feet. "You're out, Scully." He scoops up the ball and throws it at an invisible player on first base, all but showing off now.

I give him a warning glare and he responds with a big smile. Challenging me with his gaze. He picks up another ball and pitches it. It sinks right before it gets to me and I swing right over the top of it. "Mulder!" I'm frustrated but laugh at his reaction, making a fist and pumping it a little.

"Damn, I'm good."

"Ha, ha." I'm trying not to smile widely, though. "Come on, Mulder."

He pitches me another one and I hit it to the right of him, towards third base. He trots off to retrieve it, yelling at me over his shoulder. "Ok, not bad." He sees me take off out of the corner of his eye. "Oh no, you don't! He hustles the rest of the way to the ball, picks it up in his glove and we are in a race for first base. I'm laughing, feeling exhilarated at this turn of events. I round first base and he changes his direction, just running towards me now rather than second base. Getting ready to tag me. When he is about to, I dart off towards the outfield. He lets out a sharp "ha!" and quickly makes it around in front of me. I dart off again, managing to skirt past him when he sticks out his glove. I'm running as fast as I can for second before he picks me up from behind. I'm laughing and struggling, trying to get out of his arms.

"Give it up, Scully. You're out!" He's laughing a little too. One of his arms is holding me around my ribcage and I feel a jolt of dull pain, reminded briefly of a cold hand searching for my heart, but I push the thought away. I manage to get my feet on the ground and turn swiftly in his arms, but we lose our balance and he's falling on top of me. He breaks his fall, saving himself from landing on top of me with a grunt. I break my fall with my left hand behind me. My right arm had gone up and hooked around his neck, instinctively grabbing for something to save my fall. He lands over me, straddling my hips, his hands on both sides of my head. I'm laughing harder than I have in years, but trying to stop now. I look up at him and the smile on his face and the look in his eyes calm me, but I'm still giggling some. "Has anyone ever told you you laugh like a child, Scully?"

"Mulder, that's sweet," I say, giggling through my sarcasm.

"Yeah, you do. Like a manic, spastic child."

I try to look offended, drawing in a sharp breath, but the smile on his face just makes me laugh harder still. I draw in a quick breath, that pain in that one spot on my ribs sending out a little spasm. It's gone as soon as it hits, but the look on Mulder's face changes instantly. Just then, the lights over the ball park go out one by one, switching off with loud noises. I tilt my head back, look at the last set of lights before they go out. When I look back at him, it takes a moment for our eyes to adjust, and I see his worry again.

Suddenly, I smell his cologne. I know it's new. I've gotten so used to all of his regular cologne, if he wears them at all, I don't even smell them anymore. But this is his first new smell in years and I immediately love it. It is musky and…smells like pine and maybe citrus. I am having trouble putting my fingers on exactly what I smell, but it blends with his natural scent, his body chemistry perfectly. I breathe it right into my nose and feel the sensation it gives me flush my cheeks, make my head fuzzy, and reach all the way down past my stomach. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to notice my reaction. He moves his fingers to my neck, to my pulse point.

In the past several weeks since the incident in his apartment, a few times he's reached for my wrist, feeling my heart beat at my pulse point there.

I am still catching my breath from laughing, and the affect of his cologne. "You've got to stop that, Mulder. I'm fine, I'm here."

"I know." He looks assertive at my doubtful look. "I know! It's just…" He sighs and lifts his head a little, looking like he's about to lift off of me. Without thought, I reach out and grab the back of his neck, making him look at me again.

"Just…?" He settles back over me with his elbow above my shoulder.

I can see his face more clearly now, by the lights from the walking paths around the ball park, but we are mostly in darkness. "I don't like being reminded of him..." His dark eyes blink a few times, holding my eyes. "Was he right, Scully?" It's the second time he's asked me that. I turn my whole head away from his face, my tongue darting out to my upper lip, eyes wide. He sighs and slumps over me, his forehead nearly touching the side of mine. "That son of a bitch. He was so wrong about so many things. I KNOW that. But I think he was right about some things. He must have been."

I look at him incredulously at his assumption. "Mul-"

He doesn't even hear me in his ramblings. "But I don't know, because he had it so wrong." He's not making any sense. When I ask him to clarify with my eyes, curious and afraid at the same time, he says. "I see you, Scully…"

He trails off and I'm still confused. "Wha-?"

My eyes widen as he quotes Padgett's book. "'His words had presented her a pretty picture of herself, quite unlike the practiced mask of uprightness that mirrored back to her from the medical examiners and the investigators and all the lawmen who dared no such utterances.'" He looks deep into my eyes. "'the investigators and all the lawmen'…He meant me, too, Scully. But he was so wrong! I just hope you know that. I. See. You."

I am breathing quickly. I see that look in his eyes, he wants to kiss me. I shake my head no, pushing him up with my hands on his chest. That look and the smell of his cologne were about to be my undoing. "I gotta go." I scoot out from under him, put my feet underneath me and nearly launch into a quick pace toward the exit, not looking back. I only think to grab my jacket when I feel a chill after being under his warmth. I make it to my car and peel out of there, following my gut instinct. Flight. Leave. No. Don't let him in. The near kiss in his hallway, a desperate move in a desperate moment. This is the same thing, he was still reeling from Padgett, the Stranger. It will all be different in the morning.

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Author's Notes: One more chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: NC-17 from here on out. You've been warned.

Spoilers: Post-Milagro/The Unnatural story.

Author's Notes: I know I said one more chapter, but that one chapter was ending up to be as long as the first 2 combined and I'm not even done yet. So, I'll be done whenever I'm done. :)

Feedback? "I'm hungry." *like Mrs. Peacock*

* * *

I make it home and move quickly into my apartment, only beginning to relax when the door is locked and I am leaning back against it. It will all be different in the morning. More like, things will be back to normal in the morning. I let out a deep breath, and nod with determination. I hang my coat and start undressing on the way to the bedroom. A bubble bath? Yes. I plug the tub and start drawing the bath, pouring in my favorite combination of oils and some bubbles. I put on my robe and stand in front of the mirror, throwing my hair up into a clip. Wine? Don't mind if I do. I head to the kitchen and find the Pinot Grigio I've been saving for a rainy day. I pop the cork and pour myself half a glass. When I lift the bottle to stop pouring, I shake my head and tilt it again, filling it more. I begin to walk out of the kitchen with my wine glass and stop in the doorway, turning back to look at the bottle on the counter. I return and grab it, taking both of them into the bathroom. I set the bottle next to the bath and sip on the wine, watching the tub fill. When I'm satisfied with the bath, I remove my robe, hang it on the door. I light a few candles, turn off the light, sink in and sigh like I always do. Sit back and sip my wine.

For a long few minutes I push the thoughts away, but I can't help it. I see his eyes above me, so clearly. So open, honest. I am sipping heavily on my wine. I close my eyes and lean my head back. I thought it was unfair of Mulder to keep asking me if Padgett was right. Mulder - the profiler -had been simply blindsided by the statement, and he couldn't fit all of the pieces together. He couldn't figure out why I had believed in Padgett so blindly. Why I could believe in his 'abilities,' yet claim that I would never end up in bed with 'The Stranger.'

Padgett had, in fact, dissected me and found pieces of a woman inside of me that I didn't know were there. Things about myself I had long since forgotten. The desire to be looked at and desired, appreciated. Not for my brain or my professional aptitude, but for my body and everything else I had to offer to just one other person. One man to see everything that I hid from all the others.

I picture Mulder, his eyes looking down on me in the near darkness, 'I see you.' My eyes sink closed, feeling the tickle of arousal in my center.

I open my eyes wide, shaking my head no. 'Steady on, Dana.' I hear in my head, in my father's voice. He would be right. This is silly. What am I trying to talk myself out of, anyway? I certainly didn't think that Mulder really wanted more from me. Could I open myself to him and more importantly, did he really want to let ME in. It's a foolish thought.

I distract myself with finishing that glass of wine, draining some bathwater and replacing it with more hot water, pouring another glass. I sit back again and watch one of the candles flickering. The second I'm not putting conscious effort into not thinking about him, my mind strays.

'Was he right, Scully?' I hear him ask. I don't know…surely what I felt was some level of love for him. He had to know that. I cared deeply for his well being, would follow him and look out for him to the ends of the earth. He had literally done the same for me, all the way to Antarctica. I think of us in his hallway. 'You made me a whole person…' I think of the moment I realized he wanted to kiss me. He was grasping at something to convince me to stay and I was frozen by the intensity in his eyes. He held my gaze, leaning in. Looked at my lips once, then back into my eyes, a thousand times more intense than he looked at me tonight in that ball park. I tap a fingernail on my wine glass, really allowing myself for the first time to imagine what might have happened if I hadn't been stung. Milliseconds later, his mouth would have been on mine. How would his lips feel? Those lips that I've watched as he talked, as he ate his seeds. His jaw muscles working as he moved his tongue in his mouth, turning the seed over to separate the shell from it. His tongue peeking out sometimes when he couldn't get a stubborn piece of shell out of his mouth. I imagined that tongue slowly leaving his mouth and licking my upper lip as we cautiously kiss.

I suddenly realize that I've finished another large glass of wine. I also realize that it has gone straight to my core, I open my legs a little and feel the hot bathwater come into contact with my entrance. I sit the wine glass on the table and prop up my elbow on the edge of the bath. I turn my face into my hand, rubbing my mouth. The backs of my first two fingers are up against my pursed lips. After a short internal battle, my need wins out. I reach behind my neck and remove my necklace, a practice I've held onto from my teen years. I felt like God's eyes were on me when I was wearing it. I could have sex outside of marriage with it on, but what I was about to do was altogether different. I hide my cross behind the wine bottle. I get up on my knees in the middle of the bath, pulling out the shower head. I push it down under the bubbles and turn on the water, I reach under the water and click it from the setting that I rinse my head with to the low massage setting. I point the stream into my left palm, trying to tell myself I don't need this. 'What would her partner think of her?'

Then I smell his cologne. I don't know if it's a trick of my nose or if it's on my skin, but I'm done for. I put the shower head between my legs and gasp when I feel it hit my opening. The wine, the hot water and that smell all encouraging me to give in. I slowly explore myself, the stream of water just tickling my folds. I finally let it run over my clit for the briefest of moments and stifle a moan. I move it back into my folds, holding my lips open wider. Eventually I am moving my hips backwards and forwards, riding the tickling stream of water. Finally I hold it at an angle against my clit and my whole body tenses. "Oh my God," I mumble to myself. Soon enough, I click the shower head to the higher massage setting, done with the 'foreplay.' Holding the stream right up against my clit, I am quickly on my way to the edge. I hold it in just the right spot, not daring to move my hips or I will lose that spot. I continue holding it there, coasting on the very edge of an intense orgasm. I see Mulder with that look in his eyes at the ball park, he wants to kiss me. I let him and he kisses me passionately, his tongue dancing with mine. He kisses me before looking at me with a passion I never imagined he'd have for me.

I hear a knock on my door, my head turning ever so slightly at the sound. "Oh, no! Not now!" I am literally this close to the point of no return. I move the stream directly over my bundle of nerves now, quickly trying to get there. 'Was he right, Scully?' I see that bedroom look in his eyes, stretched out on my bed when we worked undercover as husband and wife, suggestively patting it. I see him perched on the edge of his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, strong forearms folded under his chest, leaning towards to me with some bizarre and inane argument to one of my theories. 'You're my one in five billion.' 'My touchstone, my constant.' 'I love you.' I am literally right there, about to crash over the edge when he knocks again. I pull the stream away from me, unable to concentrate now. The muscles of my core are rapidly pounding together in protest "Damn it, Mulder!"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: *Mircophone squeal* "Number 1013...Order number 1013. Who ordered the smut, extra love sauce?!" This is NC-17. Take it or leave it.

Spoilers: Post-Milagro/The Unnatural.

Author's Notes: Ok, forreals-I think. One more chapter after this.

Feedback? "I'm hungry." *like Mrs. Peacock*

* * *

I shut off the water and pull the plug on the tub. I step out and quickly dry off, pull my robe over my shoulders. I cinch the belt closed on my way to the door. "What do you want, Mulder?" I ask as I open the door, he had just started knocking again. "And before you ask, I'm not going to Montana, or..or Louisiana, or wherever you want to go this time-Are you drunk?" I can tell just by looking at him. I'm not one to talk, still a little fuzzy in the head myself. But he is a sight. His five o'clock shadow has begun to make it's appearance. He leaned on my door jamb after I opened the door. I'm standing there with my hand on the knob, my eyes moving down his body in that jersey.

His eyes squint and he crosses his arms, studying me. Right before he speaks, his eyes light up. "What were you doing, Scully?"

I feel the flush creeping up my neck into my cheeks. "Nothing." Be more obvious, Dana, why don't you? "Taking a bath."

He sticks out his chin a little towards me, looking down his nose at me, probing me with his gaze. Finally, his eyes light up again. "Right. To answer your questions: One, yes I am drunk." He sticks up one of his fingers in the air, "and yes, I am going to answer your questions out of the order that you asked them. Two, I don't know what I am doing here."

I stare at him for a long moment. "Motive is never easy. Sometimes it occurs to one only later."

He stares back at me for a longer moment. "Where did you hear that?"

I clear my throat, moving my hand to my hip. I am avoiding his eyes. "Padgett. In his apartment."

"I see…well, I will admit. He had a way with words. He had the ability to move people."

"That's not funny, Mulder."

"You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry. But, Scully? He was right about motive. I didn't know why I came here. I tried not to, actually. And yet, here I am. And now, I know why I am here." He stops his rambling, gauging my reaction.

I move my hand higher on the door, wrapping my hand around the end of it and leaning on it. I'm staring up at him, still feeling the warmth in my center from what I didn't finish in the bathtub. I look at his tousled hair, his forearms where he has them folded, his lips, then his eyes. We stare at each other for a long time, and finally I squint at him a little when I realize what is happening. We are each daring each other to make the first move.

I play out my options in my head, telling him to go home; telling him to sleep it off on my couch; pulling him to me with a fist full of the fabric on that jersey and taking him to my bed…

My cheeks flush again at the idea, but I refuse to act first. Does he even REALLY want this? I ask him with my eyes. He tilts his head back, looking down his nose at me again. He clenches his jaw and I see pure, unadulterated desire in his eyes. "I see you, Scully…" he whispers.

There is an intense stare between us, the air becoming thick. Finally, I squint my eyes at him. Telling him to do it with a look. Triple dog daring him to take it if he wants it. His hand moves so suddenly to the side of my face that I flinch. My hand flies up to grab his forearm out of instinct. He steps in closer and bends to my height, hesitating once again. I pull back a little to focus on his eyes, searching them, daring him to 'see me.' He sees me react to the smell of his cologne. But still, I do not budge one inch towards him. My nostrils flare, my pupils dilate, my lips part. He raises that hand from my face and forcefully pushes the door all the way open. Grabs me by my upper arms with something like a growl deep in his throat and kisses me. It is far from gentle, he is meeting my triple dog dare with ardor. The tops of our tongues find each other first, my eyes going wide, then squeezing closed. He tastes like whiskey. He circles my tongue with his, giving me another low growl as his arms move under mine to my back. He pulls me tight against him, pulling me up onto my tip toes so he can stand a little straighter.

I feel him search with his foot and then he kicks the door closed. He turns me around and pushes me against it with force. Then he bends and lifts me easily. I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms cross behind his neck. He's kissing me so hard I think he is stealing my breath. I have the briefest thought that I have never been kissed like this in my life. He breaks the kiss and I whimper, but he nudges my face to the side with his cheek and kisses and bites his way down my jaw, to my neck. His stubble leaves a burning trail down my cheek. I open my eyes for the first time since he started kissing me, looking around my apartment through my hooded eyes. Is this really happening, or am I still fantasizing in the bathtub? I close my eyes again, giving into it.

He pulls back and puts a hand over the front of my neck. He doesn't squeeze but the move drives me crazy more than I would ever admit in this moment. He is making a low sound in his throat. He moves that hand to my chin and turns my face toward his, making me look at him. "I smell you, Scully." My robe is still loosely cinched around my waist but falling open at my chest and of course draping open over my legs. I smell me, too. The smell is mixing with his cologne and the whiskey on his breath and only adding fuel to the fire.

"The couch, Mulder. Now." I see his eyes darken before he kisses me again. He braces me as he backs away from the door, turning us around. My legs tighten around him and I raise up on him, wrapping my arms around his neck more tightly, kissing him from a higher angle. He has to break the kiss after a couple steps, watching where he's going. He sits on the center cushion of the couch and I'm straddling him. I claim his mouth with mine again, tilting my head to the left instead, disliking that angle and tilting back to the right. He's doing delicious things with his tongue on my mouth, this one kiss better than all of the sex I've had in my life. If that is true, and God knows it is, what would sex be like with him? That thought makes me grind down towards his hips. I don't make any contact, my knees are too close to him, but I involuntarily grind down once more. He reaches between us and undoes the belt of my robe. He scoots down and positions me better over him. I gasp and bury my face into his neck when I feel my center come into contact with the rough material of his jeans. He makes an extremely low guttural noise before biting the place above my collar bone, then putting his hand on my neck again and making me look at him. He holds my gaze for a long moment before reaching behind my head and pulling the clip out of my hair. After he drops it on the floor, I assume, he buries his hand in my hair and pulls me in for another earth shattering kiss. I am throbbing between my legs, bare over him. I am aware of my breasts hanging freely, the robe and my hair hanging over my shoulders. Feeling almost completely naked over a fully clothed Mulder. 'She felt wild, feral. Guilty as a criminal.' That was an understatement. Another mark for Padgett in the 'wrong' column. I never could have felt this with him, could I? Mulder pulls back from our kiss, our noses still touching, his breath actually hitching as he takes in a deep breath, then exhales right in front of my mouth. I still fainty smell the whiskey on his breath and God it's intoxicating. "I want to touch you, Scully." I involuntarily grind against his jeans one more time, this time biting my lip and letting out a little whimper when I feel his erection has made an appearance. He grabs my face and l look at him, his eyes pleading. "Let me touch you."

I nod, actually asking, "please?" He pushes me back a little, I think he is asking to touch my center. But no, he pushes the robe back on my shoulders, down my arms, then off of me, onto the floor. I hold his gaze until finally his eyes trail down my neck, to my breasts. He rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, squeezing tightly.

One lock of his hair is hanging down over his forehead and I brush it away, watching him. He licks his lips, brings his bottom lip between his teeth, letting it slide out slowly, then pulls his top lip between them. He's biting down on it, his bottom lip moving ever so slightly. Just staring at my breasts and squeezing my thighs. I can't help it, I duck down and kiss him again. So hard, his head is on the back of the couch. I grind against him and his hand moves up my thighs, to my hips, holding me there tightly. I moan into his mouth, then pull back and gasp his name.

He moves a hand to the small of my back and holds me there as he kisses his way down my neck to the inside of my right breast. His left hand reaches up and tentatively, then with more purpose, squeezes it under his palm. He is placing little kisses between my breasts, his other hand between my shoulders now, holding me to him. He turns his head into my right breast, his stubble scratching across my skin. I hold onto his hair for dear life, my eyes rolling back into my head. Finally he takes my nipple between his lips and I come undone as his tongue flicks over it.

My core is aching now, my need for release crashing through me with a force that couldn't be ignored. I move back on his thighs, reaching down to raise his jersey and the shirt he's wearing underneath up over his head. My moves are deliberate, leaving no question that this part is over. "Now, Mulder…"

He makes that guttural noise again, reaching between us, undoing his jeans. I lift up over him, on one knee, my other leg holding my balance on the other side of him. I wait for him to get his pants down to his knees, then some how maneuver to get them down his legs. He kicks off his shoes, then his pants. I look down at his large erection and any last bit of reserve I had is gone. I take him into my hand and settle my knees on both sides of him again. I guide him to my opening and bury my face in his neck, both hands going to his shoulders. I push down and begin to take him inside me. His width, even with him just an inch inside me, is so delightfully filling.

He is mumbling incoherently into my hair, his hands gently resting on my hips, twitching with restraint. I whimper as I push down more onto him, taking him deeper inside, feeling myself filled and spread open more than I thought possible. My arms have wrapped around his neck, my face in the crook of it, scrunched up in unending pleasure. I have to spread my legs more to lower my hips and take more of him inside me.

Finally, when I am as low as I can go, he scoots down a little more on the couch. He moves me with him and pushes my hips down the rest of the way and thrusts up into me. My hands fly to the back of the couch and squeeze the cushions, letting out the loudest moan of pleasure into his neck. I lift my hips and begin to move. As soon as I do, I already feel the beginnings of my orgasm. I am tilting my hips down and back, feeling his hardness against the front wall of my center. Feeling him in depths I didn't know could be touched. I work my muscles around him, feeling it through my whole body as I ride him slowly.

I feel his hands all over me, restraining himself from taking control of my hips, letting me make use of his body as I need. His fingernails scratch down my back and I reach for the back of the couch, behind the cushions. My eyes are closed tightly and my face scrunched up, concentrating on the build up of my orgasm. I have never felt more like a woman than I do in this moment. Finally I tilt my hips to the left a little and start to crash over the edge. I wrap one arm tightly around his neck as I ride him, burying my face into his neck and moaning loudly, thinking it will never stop. My orgasm finally finishes, but I feel nowhere close to satisfied. Immediately I want another, my muscles are quivering again. I am still for a moment, catching my breath. My forehead is on the crook of his neck and I'm panting down between our chests.

"Scully?" he asks. I hear the pure need in his voice. I raise my head and kiss him deeply, moving off of him, guiding him over me as I lay back on the couch. I guide him back into me and he pants into my mouth, his breath hitching as he enters me again. I lift my legs high toward my chest, feeling dull pain turn into delicious pleasure as he enters and spreads me open deeper than before. I reach above my head, pushing into the arm of the couch, using the leverage to meet his thrusts. I throw my head back, eyes closed, beginning to come again. My back arches and I throw my head back, pulling him deeper into me with a hand on his ass.

I hear him chant in my ear a few times that he's going to come. I dig my nails into his skin and spread my legs wider, coming hard around him myself as he finally quits holding back and thrusts into me.

I chance one look at his face as he comes and it quickly brings me to the peak of another orgasm, the look on his face. He's sweaty, mouth open, eyes closed, groaning incoherently and shaking from his efforts. I close my eyes once more as I ride that third orgasm, holding him to me as we come together.

A few minutes later, he has his forehead propped on the inside of his forearm, right next to my head. He has almost caught his breath, but every now and then he gives another little involuntary thrust of his now soft penis inside me, making us both moan. I still feel like I could orgasm again, but my body is pretty spent.

I feel a chill now from the sweat all over my body. I push up on his shoulders a little, wanting to move him off of me. He resists and raises his head, opening his eyes. We make eye contact for the first time since before I took him inside me.

I am frozen for a moment, seeing a thousand questions in his eyes. Questions I don't have the answers to. 'Now what?' being on the top of that list. I shake my head, asking him with my eyes not to do this right now.

"Let me up, Mulder. I need to use the bathroom." He stares at me another moment before he nods and looks down, pulling himself out of me, both of us closing our eyes for a moment at the loss of contact. I sit up and get out from under him, slide on my robe and go to the bathroom.

I use it. I wash my hands and brush my hair. I rinse out my tub, put my necklace back on and pick up my wine and wine glass. I go to my bedroom and set it down. I push my bedroom door closed before putting on a fresh pair of pajamas. I pick up the wine and take it to the living room.

He has put all his clothes back on, except for his shoes and that jersey, which is laying on the arm chair next to my couch. His arms are crossed, his legs also, one ankle resting over his knee. I go and sit on the opposite side. I pour myself a half glass of wine. "Would you like some, Mulder?" I set the wine on the coffee table and turn to face him with one leg up on the couch, the other on the floor.

"No, thank you. I think I'm done for the night…" He turns to face me the same way. His right elbow rests on the back of the couch, propping his head up with two fingers on his forehead and his thumb above his jaw. We're looking at each other, but not really.

I slowly sip my wine. I look at my nails, thinking I should really give myself a manicure tomorrow. Look into my wine glass, look toward the window…expecting him to start rambling or asking me questions any moment.

I smile when I finally look at him. His face has turned more into his hand, his eyes closed, obviously drifting off. I stand, picking up my bottle of wine again. "You can sleep it off here, Mulder."

He opens his eyes and looks at me, drowsily. "Hm-what?"

"Lay down. Go to sleep." I hand him a blanket.

He takes it with his hand, setting it in front of him. "Are we ok, Scully."

"Yeah, Mulder. Just go to sleep."

"Ok…" He looks at me through sleepy eyes and holds my gaze a minute. I'm not exactly back pedaling, reeling back like I've sometimes done in similar less serious situations. But I do have a lot to process. I imagine we both do. He finally accepts my answer, reading my expression with a trained eye.

"Good night, Mulder."

"Night, Scully." He stands to strip down to his boxers as I take my glass and wine to the kitchen. I replace the cork to save what bit there is left, placing it in the fridge. I rinse out my wine glass and leave it upside down in the sink. I give him a long look on my couch, stretched out, blanket thrown across his hips, his chest bare. I let out a long sigh. I don't like not knowing what the next day will bring. I finally switch off the light, forcing myself to stop staring at his lean frame on my couch, grateful and disappointed that tomorrow is not a work day. It's enough to have to deal with this in the morning, but the distraction would actually be somewhat comforting and welcoming. I retreat to my bedroom, suddenly exhausted.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: Smutty Smut Smut. (Translation: NC-17)

Spoilers: Post-Milagro/The Unnatural.

Author's Notes: This chapter is longer than I thought it would be. So sue me. But don't really. *draws air hearts*

I listened to a lot of Depeche Mode during this story. Albums: Songs of Faith and Devotion, Ultra and Violator.

Feedback? "I'm hungry." *like Mrs. Peacock*

* * *

The sun is hitting my closed eyes and I move my hand over them, blocking it out. I wake slowly, sighing. I've slept well. I have a minor headache, and my eyes fly open under my hand, remembering why I have a headache. From a decent amount of wine. Well, the wine isn't what I'm surprised about, rather, everything that happened after Mulder knocked on my door. I turn on my back to stare at the ceiling, my hand holding my slightly achy head. I half, groan and half moan at the pain in the rest of my body. I raise my knees up, putting my feet flat on the bed, stretching my thighs. I'm desperately trying to ignore the feeling of arousal in my center, which is always amplified in the morning if I happen to be in such a state. Finally I cup myself through my pajama bottoms and panties, allowing myself one touch as I think of him inside me and feel my face flush. God, that was good. I take my hand out from under the blanket and rest both hands on my stomach, crossing my fingers.

Is he still out there? I look to my bedroom door, which I had left open a crack the night before. I listen closely and hear him breathing. Not really snoring, but his lips parting and letting out a puff of air every time he breathes out. I let out a breath myself, very slowly out of my nose, my eyes drifting closed. Maybe I can sleep a while longer, and he will be gone when I wake again.

No, damn it. All I can think about is the night before and that only sends more blood to pulse in my center. I throw off the covers and climb out of bed. I go to the bathroom, drink two glasses of water from the tap. Re-hydration will be enough of a cure for the dull ache in the front of my head. I stare at myself in the mirror for a long few minutes, trying to decide what I am going to do. What is about to happen? I shake my head at myself, I have never been more unsure about anything. I don't regret that it happened, per say. But I surely regret that I didn't put more thought into it beforehand. I feel my stomach churn as I imagine the worst. This somehow coming between us. But I calm a little, trying to imagine the ways this could actually come between us-and not finding one. Mulder and I, above all else, have deep respect for one another and our work. Even if for some reason, the THIS didn't work, I imagined that we could manage to be mature about it.

What was THIS, anyway? What did I want THIS to be? I stare into my own eyes in the mirror. I stand a little straighter, hold my shoulders back, harden my face, as if I'm walking into the Hoover Building in the morning. But I see a change in my eyes, on my face. 'You can't hide it,' I think. I cross one arm across my ribs, resting my right elbow on my left hand and looking downward. I rub my face with my right hand, thinking, 'You're in trouble.'

I shake my head and hang it lower, rubbing the back of my neck. Finally, I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth. I look in the medicine cabinet and find Mulder's spare toothbrush, setting it out for him as I brush. When finished, I remove my pajamas and shower.

Afterwards I wrap my hair in the towel and dress for the day. I choose light green V-neck sweater and jeans. I go back to the bathroom and get two Advil out of the medicine cabinet. I go to the kitchen, fill a large glass of water and go to Mulder on the couch. He's on his side with his feet hanging off the front of the end cushion. He has a pillow between his head and his left forearm, that arm hanging off the couch. His right hand is balled up in the blanket at his chest. I stare down at him a moment, my eyes running over his shoulder, his muscular arm, his exposed ribcage, the stubble on his jaw, his lips, and then his eyes. I seldom see him sleep, and for the first time notice how much of the worry is gone from his face.

Finally, I move my right knee to brush against his hand that's hanging off the couch. "Mulder…"

"Scully…" he says, but doesn't stir.

I feel my lips ever so subtly smiling again. "Mulder, wake up. It's 11:00."

He doesn't wake up, but I see his eyes move behind his eyelids, his fingers flexing around the blanket. "What day is it? God, my head is pounding Scully." In much the same way I did, he remembers the night before. He inhales through his nose and opens his eyes, but doesn't move his head at all. He is looking ahead, down his outstretched arm.

"It's Sunday," I smirk. "Here…" I move the glass of water into his line of sight. He looks at it but doesn't move. "Mulder…"

"Scully, was I dreaming?" His voice is low, his question is genuine. For a fleeting moment, I consider asking him 'What?' and pretending that he was. Obviously, that's not an option. But still, I considered it.

"No."

"So, we…" His hand drops the blanket balled at his fist and feels lower, adjusting the blanket over his hips. I feel a blush on my cheeks, licking my lips.

"Mulder, here, drink this." He finally sits up and takes the glass of water from me and takes a couple big gulps. "Slowly." I tell him. He nods and sips, rather than gulps. "Here." I hold out the two Advil. His eyes move to my hand, and he holds out his own. He stops sipping the water and takes the pills from me.

"Thank you, Scully." He takes the pills and sips a little more water. Finally, he looks at me. We don't move for a long moment. The intensity in his gaze, I couldn't even move or look away if I wanted to. He is searching my eyes, I can practically feel him searching around my brain for how I feel about this. I breathe in deeply through my nose, his stare has taken the breath from my lungs. In his eyes, I see the smallest bit of insecurity. I can see that if I were to shut him out right now, he would be hurt. Not devastated, but wounded nonetheless. I feel a tug on my heart at his vulnerability. He is still staring at me, I see his mind churning, turning our situation this way and that examining it from every angle.

But he must see in my own eyes my uncertainty. Not about what happened last night-no matter what happens in my life, I will always remember last night-but about the future. Asking him not to ask me for any answers because I don't have them.

Finally, much as last night when he was asking if we were ok, he accepts my position. He finishes the glass of water, hands it to me and stands, gathering his clothes. He goes off to the bathroom and I watch him go. I roll my eyes to the side, feeling a smirk on my lips and a blush on my cheeks when I see the faint red marks between his shoulder blades, I must have scratched him at some point when I was on top of him. I clear my throat, telling him, "Feel free to shower."

While he's in there, I do a little straightening up I've been neglecting in the kitchen. I make us a light breakfast and sit down at the table with it. A bagel for myself and some toast for Mulder. He hates bagels. I set them on the table with a big glass of water and a mug of coffee for us both.

I nibble on my bagel a few minutes before he comes out. He looks around and sees me sitting there, pointing at him to sit and have his breakfast. "It's that apple butter you like." He gives me a tight lipped smile and sits across from me. He picks up his mug and smells the coffee before taking a sip, closing his eyes. "Headache? Still?"

"Yeah. It's a little better, though. This should help."

"Good." I look him over. "Did you steal one of my razor blades, Mulder?"

"No, I borrowed it."

"Mhmm. Well, you can keep it. How'd that shaving cream work for you."

"Real men use Raspberry Rain shave gel, Scully." I laugh and it looks like I've surprised him, his toast stops on the way to his mouth and he meets my eyes, his own lighting up. I smile for a moment, but look away awkwardly, picking at my half eaten bagel. We sit in silence for another few minutes, before he puts down his half eaten slice of toast and finishes his coffee. "That's not how I imagined our first time, Scully."

Mid-sip, my eyes dart to his over my coffee mug, away, then back to him again. I finish that sip and swallow it hard. I clear my throat and set my coffee down.

"You've imagined our first time?"

"Well, yeah…" He says incredulously, as if it's so obvious.

"And that wasn't…?"

"No! I mean yes? Scully, that was good. That was really good. Really, really good." His hand is sitting on the table next to his coffee mug, moving around in that way he does when he's talking sometimes. "Ahem, I just mean, I was drunk. And you…weren't sober."

"No, I wasn't." I'm looking at my nails, still thinking about that manicure today. I open my eyes wide as I look down, feeling completely awkward. "Mulder, I think we should both take some time to process this…turn of events."

"Oh, come on, Scully!" He leans forward and lays his hand flat on the table, and our mugs rattle. I close my eyes and inhale slowly, my head still hanging down. "You're serious. Well, that's just…I can't…Wha…" I've never seen him more at a loss for words. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything!" My eyes snap to his, but I turn away quickly.

"Bullshit!" He stands up and tucks his chair in, exaggerating his movements. "Thank you for breakfast." His words are sharp and jagged, meant to cut. He picks up the rest of his toast and sticks it in his mouth in two big bites, going for his shoes. He picks them up and carries them straight out the front door, not looking back. He pulls and releases the door fast enough that it closes on its own with a bang.

I had turned my head to watch him go, but didn't say a thing to stop him. I stare at the door a while, trying to figure out what just happened. Actually, I know what happened, but I don't know why I let it happen. I close my eyes and hang my head, thinking of my history. I had, my whole life, looked for approval in men. My father and my two most serious relationships. I craved their respect. Always falling short of what they thought I should be.

Mulder, of course, was altogether different. He respected me in spite of any rebellious thing I did or any snide little remark I made. I couldn't push him away if I tried. But in this last unexplored territory of our relationship, what if I did not measure up? What if I, yet again, fell short?

xxxxx

Hours later, I am in the kitchen chopping vegetables. I had made quite a productive day out of my Sunday. I had done laundry, given myself that manicure and gone to the grocery store. I rinse off some potatoes under the tap and place them all on the cutting board after I've peeled them. I am standing there, ready to cut them when my mind drifts away, listening to the classical music drifting from my living room.

I wonder if I should at least call Mulder, make sure he is safe and sound, licking his wounds at home. As if I had called him to me, I hear his knock on the door. I close my eyes, making a face you could almost call pouty. But at the same time, I feel tiny little butterfly wings in my stomach. He is knocking again when I open the door and stand in front of him, not saying a word.

"I forgot that jersey, I had only borrowed it. I need to return it."

"I could have brought it to you tomorrow."

"I…well, I wanted to bring it to the dry cleaner this evening." I give him a skeptical look. "The dry cleaners are not open tonight…damn it. All right. You figured me out. You should, like, be an investigator for a living Scully." I raise my eyebrows at him. "Ok, sorry. I just want to talk. Give me 10 minutes, would you Scully? Please?"

I sigh and look at him through my lashes, reluctant. I at least owed him the time. I walk back to my kitchen, turning off the music along the way, letting him follow. I return to the cutting board and begin cutting potatoes. After a long silence I turn and see him at the kitchen table, watching me.

"What is it, Mulder?"

"Is the clock really ticking?"

I sigh and continue slicing. "No."

"Um, good, because I don't even know what I want to say, other than 'I'm sorry.'"

I scoop all of the potatoes I've just sliced into a bowl. I pick up an onion and peel it on my way to the trash can, looking at him. "You have nothing to be sorry for," I say, genuinely.

"No, I do." I rinse the onion off and return to the cutting board. He speaks as I chop. "You're entitled to your feelings and I can't expect you to react to last night any differently than you did. I didn't need that jersey tonight, I would have come anyway. And other than the fact that I wanted to say sorry, I had no reason to come other than the fact that I just wanted to, had to, see you." I pause for a moment, turning the cutting board to chop the other way. "Scully, I just have to say that I…understand if this won't work for you. But last night was amazing. Even you can't deny that." I hear his voice moving closer to me, and I feel my eyes sting and begin to water from the onion. "The fact remains that it shouldn't have happened, not like that. He rests his right hand on my right shoulder, coming up behind me. But not close enough that our bodies are touching.

I sniffle, quickly raising the cutting board and dumping the onion into a bowl, getting it out from under my nose. Great, now it looks like I'm crying. I move away from him, over to the sink to wash the smell off of my hands. He doesn't let me go so easily. He follows and puts his hand back in the same place.

"Mulder, you're right. It was…irresponsible of us to jump in to something like that. It's dangerous territory. There's much at stake and I'd hate to jeopardize…"

"Shh, Scully. I'm talking…" He moves his mouth to the side of my head, not kissing. Just resting it against my hair as he gathers his thoughts. I'm standing in front of the sink, still, drying my hands. "If this isn't going to work, or you need time, or whatever it is…I will live with that. It won't be easy. Still, I'd rather have you close, wanting you, than lose you all together. I only have one request."

"What?" I whisper, having just gotten a whiff of his cologne.

"I saw you last night, saw what you wanted, saw a part of you I didn't even know you had in you…Let me do the same. Let me show you. If it's only just once for the rest of my life, I'll be ok, knowing that I showed you." His hand has moved to the side of my neck, then tentatively to the front of it, just barely curling his fingers around the front of it. I feel my heart beating faster, and so does he. He pushes his fingers down my collar bone, then back over my neck.

"Mulder…doing this with someone like you would be hard enough for me…and on top of everything else we deal with..."

"Not tonight, Scully. That's not what I'm asking you for tonight. I want to show my hand and let the chips fall where they may. Then you…take your time, or decide it isn't right for you. I just have to show you, Scully, please." His voice goes from that rumbling thunder to a whisper. " I can't remember every little detail and I can't stand it." He has been tickling different little places on my neck, raising goose bumps on my skin. Finally, I lean into him, just barely, but he feels it. I feel him sigh into my hair. "I'm going to show you everything, Scully." I gasp and turn my head away from his, giving him a better angle as he reaches down over my sweater, cupping my left breast. "But you have to watch. You have to see it." He slides his hand down until his palm brushes up hard against my nipple through too much fabric, then slides his hand back up, cupping me once more before returning his hand to my neck. "Do you hear me?"

I give it one last hard thought, thinking it might be my last chance to stop this. Curiosity is getting the better of me, and I don't even think I could stop it right now, "I hear you, Mulder."

"Good…now, turn around." I look at him over my shoulder, he rolls his eyes, knowing he shouldn't have expected any differently. He turns me with his hands on my hips, and moves his hands up to the side of my face, looking down at me. I'm looking at his lips, lick my own in anticipation. Expecting him to kiss me any moment. "No, no." He moves his hand into my hair and squeezes ever so gently, tilting my head back to look into his eyes. "You look at ME, Scully. This time, especially later, your eyes will be open."

I feel weak in the knees, looking into his dark, beautiful eyes closer and longer than I ever have before. I see confidence and strength that was missing from the kid I had met in his office so many years ago. He is holding my face the same way he had in his hallway, and I remember his words. 'You saved me…You kept me honest, you made me a whole person.' No one had ever said anything like that to me. And from someone like Mulder I took it as the truth. Though he said those words while grasping at straws, afraid to lose me, he would never say them when he didn't mean them. He is retelling me now, all of that and more. I am the reason for his confidence, strength, his growth into a man who cared about someone other than himself and his own pursuit of the truth. "Do you see? I need you, Scully." I nod, blinking away the prickly feeling of tears forming in my eyes. He doesn't mean sexually, not in this moment.

" I see." I swallow past the lump in my throat as he kisses my forehead, hugging me close for a long moment. Again, he takes my face between his hands and looks at me.

"Good," he says and moves in slowly, the side of his nose is against mine. He's breathing my breath, and I his. Finally he kisses my lips, his hands cupping the back of my head over my hair. I kiss him back. He surprises me when he bends enough to lift me up and puts me down to sit on the counter, next to the sink, pulling me down to kiss him again. He smiles into my lips at my yelp of surprise. I respond eagerly, my arms and legs wrapping around him. For the briefest moment I wonder if I have made the right decision, then he does this delightful thing with his tongue in my mouth and I forget it. I give him a little whimper and kiss back eagerly. He stops his kissing and with hands on the side of my face says, "No. We're taking our time tonight."

I feel my lip poke into a pout for the briefest moment, then bite it. Our lips are still an inch apart and I feel, more than hear him laugh. "Think I'm funny, Mulder?" Half flirty, half indignant.

"Actually, I do." He kisses me again softly, no tongue. But still somehow completely erotic. I can't believe the thoughts that fill my head with just one kiss. Then again, I can't believe anything I've done the past two nights.

He gives me his tongue again and I follow his lead, slowly tilting my head back, slowly kissing him, slowly letting my tongue run up his. He gives me a little sound of approval, moving his fingers into my hair, holding the back of my head, rubbing my scalp so softly I get goose bumps. He pulls back away from me again when I once again deepen the kiss. He curls his tongue up, barely brushing the inside of my upper lip before very gently biting my bottom lip and I feel myself practically melt, my arms falling from around his neck, down his sides. He pulls my bottom lip between his, gently sucking before flicking his tongue over it. If I had half my wits, I'd be embarrassed at my reaction.

He kisses me more passionately, but just as slowly. If I had to guess how Mulder would be as a lover-maybe I have or maybe I haven't entertained that thought in the past few years-I would certainly guess he had passion and fervor. But the ability, not just the ability but the patience to just stop and really be with someone, surprises me. I test his resolve, pulling him to me by balling the sides of his t-shirt in my fists at his sides and pulling him closer. Moving my tongue back into his mouth with intent.

He moans into my mouth and gives in for a brief moment. He kisses me deeply, his hands running down my sides and back up quickly. Then he pulls his head back and looks at me, moving a hand to my neck and grabbing it. It's not painful, but it's assertive, and completely maddening. I am staring back at him, fixed by his eyes.

He squeezes my neck just a little tighter, not even close to cutting off circulation, simply driving me crazy. "Mulder…" I'm breathless, taken again by surprise at what he does to me.

His eyes are as intense as I've ever seen them. "Scully…?" He moves his hand on my neck to tilt my head, brushing my hair back from my neck with his other hand, staring for a moment before moving in to place his mouth there. His tongue makes first contact and I whimper, unable to stifle it. He finds a sensitive spot and brushes his lips over it, before his tongue, then breathing hot breath over it. I actually shake for just a moment, tightening my hands into tighter fists, holding onto his shirt for life. He so very lightly bites that spot and I turn my head into his, searching out his mouth again. He kisses me back and holds me to him, picking me up. I wrap my arms and legs around him and he kisses me back before asking. "Can I take you to bed?"

I rest my forehead on his, nodding my consent. He nods back, walking me toward the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed, leaning over me with his elbows and kissing me for a minute. I am relieved that he lets me remove his shirt, already imagining him filling me so completely again. But he has other plans. Before I can attempt to remove his pants he stands, pulling me by my legs to the very edge of the bed. He stands me up again, removing my shirt. He fixes my tousled hair before making me look at him again as he removes my bra. He sits me back on the bed and guides me to move back onto it before kneeling between my knees. He undoes my jeans while looking over my body, his jaw clenching. He hooks his hands over my jeans and panties, giving a little tug that lets me know to raise my hips. I do and he removes them, pulling them off of each leg. He tosses all of my clothes on the floor and he moves over me again. I am about to reach for his pants before he again stops me, taking my forearms and closing his hands around them, running his hands up my arms to my wrists before he is holding them over my head. He holds with his loosest grip with one hand, looking down at me to make sure I am not uncomfortable with this. I bite my lips, my breath accelerating. Not out of fear, but something altogether different. There is trust, of course there is trust. I think of a time in Philadelphia, when Ed had grabbed me to keep me from touching his tattoo. Think of Mulder's hand on my throat, and what he's doing to me now. My cheeks flush, thoughts of submission running through my head. I have had few lovers, and remarkably bland sex. This is a new occurrence to me, and completely surprising.

I think Mulder watches me have these thoughts, and catches the drift of what I'm thinking. He must, because I see a dark twinkle-for lack of better words-in his eyes. He tightens his grip on my wrists just enough that I can't easily pull them out. I test that and he watches me, ready to let go if it bothers me at all. I keep my face stoic, but feel my heart race with excitement. "I see you." He's looking quite mischievous.

I lick my lips and blink my eyes with a hint of a nod, unable to keep my cheeks from growing hotter. He lowers his face to mine, brushing his nose against mine, his lips hanging over mine. Then he kisses me deliciously slowly. Doing those delightful little things with his tongue again, inside my mouth and on my lips. He gets out from between my legs and lays flush against me, keeping his mouth to mine and propping himself on his left elbow. He is laying half over me with his right hand continuing to subdue my wrists. Skin against skin, he puts some of his weight on me. I want to wrap my arms around him and I instinctively try to move my arms. He is holding with just enough grip that if I was uncomfortable I could get them free. But reminding me that he has me, for now. I moan at what that does to my insides, still surprised by these feelings. He tightens his grip just that much more when he sees what that does to me.

For I don't know how long, he kisses me until I am completely wound up beneath him. I've let him kiss me just as slowly as he wanted to. "Mulder," I mumble against his lips. I finally break our kiss, panting against his face. I take a few deep breaths before kissing him again, more deeply, with intent.

"Scully," he breaks away and looks down at me. "Not yet." He has the audacity to smirk at me. After I glare at him, he lets go of my hands. I move them to his shoulders. He kisses my forehead, urging me to calm down. I close my eyes and sigh, nodding when I have managed to somehow. He kisses my forehead once more. "You said I could show you."

"Ok…? Mulder?"

"Yeah, I know, Scully. I'm sorry." He lays a gentle kiss on my lips, over before it started. He moves himself back over me, his mouth on my neck now. He finds that sensitive spot once more and kisses it deeply. His hand snakes up under my back, raising me off of the bed a few inches. His hand on my bare back, between my shoulders gives me goose bumps. "You're a very good kisser, Scully. In a way, you surprised me there." His mouth moves up my neck to my ear, mumbling against it. Rumbling thunder in my ear, "I could kiss you all night, if you'd let me." He takes my earlobe between his lips, flicking his tongue over it, moving his way up the shell of my ear, kissing the top of my cheek bone now, blowing hot breath over my ear. I actually shudder underneath him, dear God. He removes his hand from beneath me and continues on the other side of my neck, giving that neck and ear the same attention. He takes one breast into his hand, surprising me so that I gasp and lift my chest into his hand. When I whimper at his touch, I can see him lose himself for a moment, his shoulders slouching down so that he is closer, his hips almost making contact with mine. I hear him take a few, composing breaths next to my ear. He finally kisses his way down my neck, down between my breasts. I lay back, one arm falling above my head, the other still on his shoulder, then the back of his neck. He kisses and fondles my breasts for the next several minutes, everywhere but my nipples. Finally he takes one into his mouth and I don't even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed at my reaction.

He smiles up at me, pleased with himself. I give him a glare, he's lightly kissing the area between my breasts again. He takes one of my hands in his, kissing it softly, wanting me to calm down again. I'm starting to feel pretty damn frustrated. Finally he pulls my face to his to give me another brief kiss on the forehead, then the lips. He begins moving down my body again, placing feather light kisses down my neck, down my sternum, down to my upper abs. His closed lips brushing over me so softly that it almost tickles at times, looking down at the places he's kissing before he moves on to the next. He pauses between kisses, his eyes lingering one place. He adjusts himself over me to rest his elbow on the bed so that his hand can touch this place, where I was shot a few months back by that young agent from the New York office. He places another feather light kiss there, it's still very pink, still healing. He's looking up at me with such vulnerability it nearly takes my breath away. His hand is now resting over that spot at the bottom of my ribcage, where the that phantom attacker had plunged through my skin, searching for my heart. Mulder's hand is warm, now, though and so much warmer than the monster of my nightmares.

"Do you see, Scully? How much I'd hate…how much I couldn't bear to lose you? How much it kills me every time I nearly do?" He smirks and brushes his lips over the spot his hand just left. "And I'm only just now telling you this…But do you see?" He kisses the healing gunshot scar again and rolls his eyes up to mine.

I nod, swallowing past another lump in my throat. I know how he feels, there. He nods also, satisfied. He picks up where he left off, kissing his way down, somewhere around my belly button now. I raise up on my elbows, just a little, watching him settle on his elbows between my legs, my breathing accelerating. He looks up at me and sees my excitement, looking back with a knowing grin.

He stands on his knees between my legs. I watch him rest his hands on my left thigh, watch his face as he watches his own hands move down my leg. I shudder as his fingers brush against my inner thigh. His fingers move slowly down my thigh, like he is reading Braille. Now he lifts my leg, his fingers stroke the back of my knee. I whimper, usually somewhat ticklish there. But this feels completely erotic. I close my eyes and shudder when he does it again, more slowly. I feel it all the way in my core, as if he is stroking deep inside me. I manage to open my eyes and look into his, wondering where he learned that, then deciding I probably don't want to know. He is grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he moves his way further down my leg, his hands running down both sides of my calf. Finally he takes foot by my Achilles tendon and holds it up, brushing his fingers lightly along the bottom of my foot, heel to toe. It has the same affect on that normally ticklish spot. I am breathing so fast, so totally aroused.

He places a hand next to my head, ducking down to kiss my lips again. It is over far to soon and he is backing away from me, standing on the floor of the bed. He puts his hands on my rib cage and slowly moves his hands down my body, over my hips to my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the bed with ease. He bends down on his knees on the floor and runs his hands down to my calves. He runs his fingers up the bottoms of both of my feet before resting them on his shoulders. I am looking down at him, resting on my elbows. My chest is visibly rising and falling with my breath.

He kisses the inside of my thigh and looks into my eyes, holding the outside of my thigh with his left hand. He holds my eyes a moment before looking down at my center, seeing my arousal. I see his eyes go dark, feel his jaw clench and then fall open against my inner thigh. His hand is gripping my thigh tightly. His eyes connect with mine again and I see fire in his. He looks down at me again and I feel his index finger softly run down the inside of one of my lips. "Jesus, Mulder!" My fingers grip the sheets, my toes curling a little on his shoulders. His eyes meet mine again and I see pure desire in his eyes. He holds my eyes with his, daring me to look away. He exhales onto me and I feel his hot breath. "Oh, my God." I am not going to say that I have never received this before. But those experiences were nothing to remember, now. I had no idea that I would ever WANT this as badly as I did right now.

"I see you, Scully. Do you see how much I want you, right now? Always?" He turns his hand over and pushes his index finger inside me slowly. My head falls back and I almost whimper out some profanity, my toes curling tightly. He removes it and bites my inner thigh softly. "Look at me…Answer me."

"Huh?" I look and have to remind myself what he was saying. "Yeah…Yes." I lick my lips, my nails digging into my own palms. I do see how much he wants me, and it's almost too intense to look at. He breathes another hot breath and looks at my opening again before sliding that finger back inside. He so very slowly pushes inside of me, slowly exploring. He curls it just enough to put some pressure on my upper wall and pulls it out some.

I swear I feel what he's doing on every inch of my skin, I can't take watching him, it's too much. My eyes close and I lie straight on my back. He removes his finger from me once more and I am about to raise up and protest, before he puts his mouth right on me. His tongue brushes over my clit before he puts his lips on it, just as if he was kissing my mouth. My eyes fly open, looking at the ceiling as my back arches. My feet push down into his shoulders. I am biting my lip so hard I wonder if I will draw blood.

He flicks his tongue over my clit one more time and I exhale a long moan, my hand going into his hair, my palm pushing back against him like it's too much. Yet my nails pull inward at the same time, holding him to me. My back arches and my legs spread wider as he moves down to my opening, his tongue probing. First one side, then the other. He gives special attention to a spot that makes me jump and soon I am whimpering and shuddering. I wonder for the briefest moment if I am cutting off circulation in his neck at all with my feet, my legs spread so wide, causing me to push down into his neck. Then he wraps his hands around my thighs and holds me to him, pushing his tongue further inside me. He breathes more hot breath out onto me and I'm holding his head while I move my hips, right on the edge. He moves his mouth to my clit once more and does some very talented things with his tongue before returning his tongue inside of me with a lot of pressure. For another brief moment I wonder if his tongue will ever get tired before I am thrusting against his mouth, pulling his hair as I come with his face there, never stopping until I am through.

He slows his actions, letting me come down. I am literally shaking as I look at the ceiling and attempt to catch my breath. He removes his mouth from that sensitive area and brushes his lips over the inside of my thigh before he holds my calves, moving my feet off of his shoulders. He pushes me up on the bed enough that I can rest my feet on it as he stands there and removes his pants and boxers. I continue to lie there and come down, feeling like I am dreaming as I watch him undress. I have never come that hard in my life.

Finally, once he is naked, he leans over me on the bed and lifts me up. He lays me lengthwise on the bed, my head on a pillow. He keeps his eyes on mine the whole time he positions us, ready to enter me. He props up his right elbow, that hand cupping the top of my head.

He is breathing quickly, all of this restraint and foreplay finally catching up with him. He enters me slowly, I'm twitching with nearly every movement. He's entering some, pulling out, then entering some more. It takes a good minute or two before he is completely filling me. He is holding onto my thigh, frozen over me, inhaling and exhaling deeply through his nose. Now he closes his eyes, trying to calm himself, he rests his forehead on mine. Finally he has settled in to me, and raises his head to look down at me again.

He kisses me gently and I widen, then close my eyes when I taste myself in his mouth. He pulls back and rests his forehead on mine again when he feels me twitching around him in my reaction to that.

"Scully…" He looks down at me again, that hand on my head stroking my scalp with his fingertips. "Do you see?" When I really look into his eyes, what I see there nearly knocks me off my feet so to speak. I feel as if someone is squeezing my heart with a warm hand. All of the air escapes my lungs. Love. I see love. I measure up, I think. He doesn't need to say it, his heart is on his sleeve. My head falls all the way back onto the pillow, my eyes closing as I nod yes to him. He raises his left hand from my thigh to the side of my face, I feel him stroke my cheek and begin to move over me. Pulling out a bit and pushing inside one time.

"Mulder, wait…" He stills his movements, I feel his eyes on my face. But my eyes remain closed, I'm thinking. I think of all he's shown me tonight. Friendship, his fear of losing and living without me, his desire and now his love.

He is holding so still I feel him start to shake. "Scully, what is it? Am I hurting y-"

He has shown me his truth. And now, faced with proof I can't deny, I tell him my truth. "He was right, Mulder." My eyes remain closed for another few moments until I open them, wondering if he heard me. He has.

He is looking at me with wonder, with a light and peace in his eyes I've never seen before. I feel my lips twitch into a smile, He is still smiling as he moves that pillow from under my head, moving his arms under me, grabbing the edge of the mattress. He kisses me deeply as he begins moving, so slowly. When I lift my legs to give him a better angle, he pulls back and looks into my eyes again in such pleasure. We continue to move, so slowly that both of us are on the edge of a very intense orgasm. We go over together after he reaches a hand under one of my thighs, pushing just a little bit deeper into me. He is staring into my eyes until he no longer can, trembling and still slowly thrusting into me as I come around him.

He is still lying over me a while later. He kisses my forehead. "Thank you for letting me show, you, Scully. I knew you'd come around." He's mumbling into my ear now.

"Mulder!" I'm trying not to laugh.

"Mmm…Scully. Careful." He gives me another little thrust. "Or maybe I'll have to show you again." He takes my earlobe between his teeth.

"Yeah, you know. It always does take a lot of convincing for me to see it your way."

"I'll show you every day, multiple times, until you are a believer."

* * *

I'm going to take my time  
I have all the time in the world  
To make you mine  
It is written in the stars above

-Depeche Mode 'It's No Good'

Words are meaningless  
And forgettable  
All I ever wanted  
All I ever needed  
Is here in my arms  
Words are very unnecessary  
They can only do harm

-Depeche Mode 'Enjoy the Silence'

And I thank you  
For bringing me here  
For showing me home  
For singing these tears  
Finally I've found  
That I belong here

-Depeche Mode 'Home'

* * *

Author's Notes: "Jungians would say it's the characters that choose the writer, not the other way around."

Dude, I have proof that Mulder and Scully are making me write what they want to do. Feet gross me out. Seeing someone touch someone else's feet grosses me out. And Mulder just touched Scully's feet. When they want to suck each other's toes, I quit!


End file.
